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A review by wjlongiii
House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
5.0
Coming into House of Leaves, I had little concrete information aside from the internet's collective declarations that the book was weird, unsettling, and unique. That glowing endorsement and the fact that it had been credited with inspiring one of my favorite stories of all time, Control, I couldn't stay away.
As usual, I will avoid most of the plot points here, but suffice it to say that this novel has taught me a few things about just how strange and creative a narrative can be crafted. As I explained to my wife, you, the reader, are an active participant in the novel. You read a book compiled by one character based on research collected and commented upon by another about a documentary filmed by a photojournalist who buys a house that grows stranger as he and his family settle into it.
How strange? Let's say the interior of the house is 1/4 inch longer than the exterior, and that's only the beginning of the oddities in store on Ash Tree Lane.
At its core, it's not the creepy, ever-changing mystery house that held my interest but the oddly personal way the tale was told. What I found myself obsessed with were the many flawed characters and the various ways in which the stresses of the house directly, or the notions that reached through the more removed scenarios, amplified, and later, preyed upon those flaws.
I have heard this book referred to as a terrifying read or as a pretentious piece of post-modern drivel, and yes, to a degree, it is both, but it is somehow neither at the same time. I have never read another novel like this, and just when I thought I had felt everything I could, Mark Danielewski snuck in one final gut punch; a section of letters written by a character's embattled mother to her estranged son had me in tears at 6 am on a Sunday morning when everyone else in my home was sleeping peacefully.
After closing the book, my first read-through done, I could only declare my intention to ride this rollercoaster at least one more time. But until I summon the courage to face those cold, dark, malleable halls again, House of Leaves will stay with me.
As usual, I will avoid most of the plot points here, but suffice it to say that this novel has taught me a few things about just how strange and creative a narrative can be crafted. As I explained to my wife, you, the reader, are an active participant in the novel. You read a book compiled by one character based on research collected and commented upon by another about a documentary filmed by a photojournalist who buys a house that grows stranger as he and his family settle into it.
How strange? Let's say the interior of the house is 1/4 inch longer than the exterior, and that's only the beginning of the oddities in store on Ash Tree Lane.
At its core, it's not the creepy, ever-changing mystery house that held my interest but the oddly personal way the tale was told. What I found myself obsessed with were the many flawed characters and the various ways in which the stresses of the house directly, or the notions that reached through the more removed scenarios, amplified, and later, preyed upon those flaws.
I have heard this book referred to as a terrifying read or as a pretentious piece of post-modern drivel, and yes, to a degree, it is both, but it is somehow neither at the same time. I have never read another novel like this, and just when I thought I had felt everything I could, Mark Danielewski snuck in one final gut punch; a section of letters written by a character's embattled mother to her estranged son had me in tears at 6 am on a Sunday morning when everyone else in my home was sleeping peacefully.
After closing the book, my first read-through done, I could only declare my intention to ride this rollercoaster at least one more time. But until I summon the courage to face those cold, dark, malleable halls again, House of Leaves will stay with me.